


Code Blue

by fauxrugged



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Birthday Party, First Kiss, Fluff, Guilty Pleasures, Light Angst, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Nonsense, PWP, Pasta, Pinto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 01:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20648777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxrugged/pseuds/fauxrugged
Summary: Chris realizes that a weakness for Italian food isn't his only guilty pleasure.





	Code Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Created for @PinyChrissyGirl for her 10 year Twitter anniversary.

“Did you know you have five unread text messages?”

A smartphone eclipsed the page of the book he was reading, forcing Chris to look up. His girlfriend waggled the phone at him, and when he didn’t take it, she dropped it on the book and tucked her blond hair behind one ear. “You dropped it on the floor of the car, didn’t you realize?” she said in an exasperated voice.

“No,” he looked up at her and grinned, “Should I have?”

“Who’s texting you so much, anyway?” she said suspiciously.

“No idea,” he said, holding her gaze with an air of nonchalance.

He and Chelsea had been dating for about a month, and Chris was growing increasingly ambivalent. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought her to Vancouver to this Armani commercial shoot, but she said she’d never been, and he had given in rather than have her whine at him.

She huffed, irritated, and walked away to talk with his assistant. Chris looked after her, frowning slightly. She was pretty and blond, like many of the girls who attracted him. To be honest, he wouldn’t be able to pick her out in a room full of models like the ones drifting around the Armani perfume film set right now.

Beautiful women came and went on some sort of carousel, a year and a half was the most anyone had lasted before things dissolved for one reason or another. Chelsea...well, perhaps he should call it done soon. He unlocked his phone.

_Hey, how’s the shoot going?_

_How’s the weather on the Westcoast?_

_Is Seb as amazing as his reputation suggests?_

_Any birthday plans?_

_Did you lose your phone again or are you ignoring me on purpose?_

Zach. Mr. Why-send-one-text-when-you-could-send-five? Quinto. Chris felt a flush warm his cheeks. Chelsea might appear at any moment, but somehow he didn’t care if she saw. He texted back:

_I told you before, I’m having a dinner at some Italian restaurant Ryan recommended. I invited you, remember, but you said you were busy._

The phone buzzed almost as soon as he had sent it.

_Italian resto?? Pasta freak!_

_Seb isn’t gonna want to film you if you bloat._

_Fuck you, it’s a code blue._

‘Code Blue’ - medical lingo for when a person went into cardiopulmonary arrest - was their particular shorthand denoting a guilty pleasure. They used it when they indulged in something they really enjoyed, but was normally off-limits. Most of the time, it referred to Zach giving Chris the side-eye every time he ate pasta or carbs in general, and Chris justifying that he deserved the reward.

It all started when Chris decided to bulk up for his reprisal of the Captain Kirk role in Star Trek Beyond.

“You’re gonna regret it if you let yourself go,” Zach had warned one day.

“Shut up! It’s for the role. Besides, I’ve got a fast metabolism,” retorted Chris.

“This is Kirk circa his early years on the Enterprise, not confused grand-uncle, soft around the middle Kirk from the movies,” sniped his friend, delicately fingering one of his Spock ears as if checking to see that it was securely attached.

At that time, Chris had only chuckled and reached over to grab an entire turkey sub from the catering tray, much to Zach’s chagrin. From then on, his friend had made it his personal mission to keep an eye on the calories Chris consumed.

_Maybe I should cancel my plans and fly out to keep you in line._

_You know you can’t be trusted after two glasses of chianti_

_Don’t be such a tease. I know you’re not serious._

_I’ll drown my sorrows in pino grigio instead._

_Oh honey_

_Don’t make me prove you wrong_

_I’ll totally do it._

_Whatever. Hey I’ll chat later. They’re ready to start again._

_Ooh, you big STAR you_

_Smolder, baby, smolder_

Chris rolled his eyes, and grinned to himself. He and Zach had struck up a close friendship really quickly, and their interactions over the years were close verging on flirtatious, and if the media was to be believed, really ‘bromancy’. But Chris had never given that definition any weight...at least, he purposely ignored any implications that their camaraderie might seem to imply something more.

He was comfortable with the status quo. Why fix something that wasn’t broken?

The shoot ended at 7:00 PM, and Chris was exhausted, but it was Chelsea who fell asleep and was stretched out almost full length in the back of the black SUV, while he sat up front beside the driver.

As the car sped through the twilight streets back to the downtown apartment that was rented for him while he was in town, a ticker-tape of what he was going to do scrolled through his mind...get back, change, hit the gym, shower, dinner, sleep...rinse, repeat. They were surface concerns, surface thoughts to keep himself distracted from a creeping sensation of discontent that he could feel was brewing, percolating just below his consciousness. He sighed and licked his lips, pensive despite his best efforts.

He looked at his phone, but Zach had not texted back. That was unusual. His friend often texted several times a day, chatting about nothing much and describing minutia even if it was super boring, and consisted of Zach describing his walk with Noah to the dog park in almost step-by-step detail. The daily updates were something to look forward to. They ran through his life in a gentle, almost constant, rhythm. They made him happy.

Later that evening, Chris was standing in the foyer downstairs with the driver as they waited for Chelsea to finish getting ready. He pushed a hand through his long bangs, irritated though he tried not to show it. Fidgeting, he glanced periodically at his phone. No notifications. Chris studied his Louboutin loafers instead.

Dinner was booked at an Italian restaurant - Cin Cin - downtown. The interior was almost stereotypically Mediterranean, with warm, thick, terracotta tiles on the floors and stippled colour gradients on the walls in sunset oranges and earthy yellows. Delicious smells of grilling meats, the sea salty waft of boiling pasta water, and a sharper undercurrent of red wine tannins assailed Chris’ senses and set his mouth salivating in the most delightful way as he walked in. Fuck calories, he thought. It was his birthday dinner, after all.

Chris and Chelsea were ushered toward a private wine room which was lined floor to almost ceiling with stacks upon stacks of wine bottles, creating an effective privacy screen from the rest of the restaurant. Part of Chris cringed at the blatant exclusivity, but the rest of him was thankful for a brief respite from the prying eyes of the public. He would never admit it to himself, but his bright, piercing blue eyes and prince charming features were more than a little distracting. Even if he didn’t have a Hollywood A-list reputation, his looks would definitely set him apart from the crowd.

As they passed by a tall mirror, he caught sight of his and Chelsea’s reflection, her blond hair glowed in the warm light of the restaurant. She really was beautiful.

He wondered then, how it would look if that blond hair was dark chocolate, and his arm was leading a tall drink of water poured into a sharp suit through the restaurant instead. Now where had that thought come from all of a sudden? Chris blinked and the vision was gone.

They entered the room and Chris broke into a grin, greeting his group of friends who were already assembled and waiting for him. As he sat down, the head waiter bent to speak in his ear, “Good evening Mr. Pine, would you like to start with a round of cocktails, or wait till all of your party has arrived?”

“Isn’t everyone here already?” asked Chris, confused. He looked around and counted 10 friends, all who were on the invite list.

“There was a late addition, I believe. Were you not made aware of it?” said the head waiter, somewhat apologetically.

Chris frowned, turning to the man, “Who?”

“Hey,” came a deep, warm, voice from the entrance to the wine room.

It seemed to Chris that all sound in the universe muted for a second, all his friends had suddenly faded into the background as if they were mere pieces of furniture. The clinking of cutlery and plates, the roar of the open grill, the noises of the busy restaurant were all lowered to a staticky murmur.

“Zach,” the name fell from his lips.

His friend smiled, his large, dark eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth as he advanced. “You should see the look on your face right now,” Zach whispered, as he enfolded Chris in a tight bearhug.

Dinner was a blur. Conversation was a blur. If Chelsea was sulking, he didn’t notice. The lights of the restaurant were dim, and wine and food flowed liberally, adding to the overall fuzziness that was encroaching on Chris’ senses. He did his best to keep his mind engaged by the talk around him, but in truth, he could only focus on one thing - the solid warmth of the man sitting close beside him.

A spicy sandalwood fragrance curled its enticing tendrils around him every time Zach leaned forward to say something, and Chris could not help but notice that Zach’s knee had, for the last 30 minutes at least, been pressed up firm against his. Chris didn’t want to move. Chris couldn’t move if his life depended on it. He would sit in that seat forever if it meant that Zach would stay by his side.

A jolt reverberated through him as realization dawned. How curious he had not understood it before. Perhaps he was afraid to face the whole truth of it before now. Chris studied his friend’s strong profile with its prominent jawline and serious brows drawn over intense, chocolate brown eyes as he was talking to Chelsea across the table.

Look at me, he willed, silently.

As if on cue, Zach turned his gaze to meet Chris’ cerulean orbs. It may have been an eternity, or perhaps it was only a microsecond.

“Are you drunk, buddy?” Zach asked, his handsome face alight with amusement, stroking his hand along Chris’ arm solicitously.

Chris didn’t answer, but he knew he was, and it wasn’t on the wine.

It was nearly midnight when they walked up to Zach’s flashy, modern hotel. Chelsea had gone back to the apartment an hour before, drunk, mostly asleep and left in the care of the driver. If Chris felt guilty, any thoughts were burned away by his friend’s close proximity.

Over the course of the night they had found it increasingly hard to keep their hands off each other.

They were silent as the elevator climbed the floors, and neither said a word as they removed their shoes just inside the door. Chris was panicking slightly as the wine buzz and the heat of the restaurant dissipated from his cheeks and body, leaving his hands clammy. This wasn’t something unusual that they were doing. They hung out tons. Sure Zach showing up was a complete surprise that made Chris blush to the roots of his hair, but why was tonight any different from a multitude of other nights? He moved towards the window and drew the blinds back.

“Hey uh, thanks for coming to my birthday party,” Chris licked his lips, acutely aware of his nervousness. He was suddenly having flashbacks of really bad auditions, and turned to look out the window to mask his awkwardness.

Zach laughed out loud and walked up to Chris. “Why the sudden mood...babe?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chuckled lamely, and then fell silent again. He could see in the reflection that the taller man had stepped up close behind him.

“You know you can’t lie to me, right?” said Zach.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind, that’s all.” Chris willed himself to stand still and not shy away from the heat he could feel radiating over his back and shoulders. The heat of Zach’s body was suddenly unaccountably close. He licked his lips again.

“A lot on your mind? Is that all?” Large, warm hands gripped his biceps and turned him around gently.

“Hey, be nice,” Chris chastised without any real heat. He couldn’t meet Zach’s eyes for some reason. “I think...I’m gonna break up with Chelsea,” he confessed.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” came the deadpan reply.

“Uh, okay then,” Chris leaned slightly and closed his eyes as he sank his face into Zach’s shoulder. He was warm all over and his ears were ringing. “Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know, then.”

“You look really sharp in an Armani suit,” whispered Zach, after a moment. His low voice rumbled through Chris’ chest and caused a fizz to start somewhere between his shoulder blades.

“I already know that.”

“Okay...well, what else is on your mind then?”

“Why did you decide to take a flight across the continent just to come to my birthday party?”

“I thought it was obvious,” murmured Zach, and Chris could feel his warm breath ghosting across his temple.

He didn’t want to say anything. If they just left it at this, just texting and chatting, just sitting shoulder to shoulder during interviews, just staying close but remaining silent, maybe Chris could keep pretending. And if Chris could keep pretending, he’d keep dating beautiful woman after beautiful woman and he could keep Zach in the comfortable role he had constructed for him.

The truth was, Chris was afraid. This evening had passed like an amazing dream, but like how one felt upon waking and finding out that they had been dreaming, reality was a little bitter in comparison.

Zach sighed, cutting through his thoughts, “You know, you should stop ignoring it,” he said, softly.

“Stop ignoring what?” Was it just Chris’ imagination, or did his voice just quaver?

“Code blue,” Zach whispered, and he reached up and raised Chris’ face from his shoulder.

Time seemed to stand still. In that small eternity, there was an ending, and there was a beginning. Zach tilted his head slightly and caught Chris’ mouth in his own, lips petal soft and burning with unspoken desire. As strong arms encircled him, the world turned on its axis, and everything was suddenly different.

They kissed for the first time as if it were their last, breath mingling with breath, tongues entwining and exploring, tentative at first and then growing bolder. A flood of passion that had been held back for months, years perhaps, broke its dam and the world was changed forever. After what seemed like an age, Chris gasped and broke away, his head spinning slightly.

“What happens now?” his voice was uncertain and hoarse.

“I really don’t know,” replied Zach, his own voice thick with emotion, “but I don’t regret this. Do you?”

“No,” said Chris, and he realized he had said it with complete honesty.

“Good,” said Zach, and he captured warm, moist lips again with his own. Chris made a small sound in his throat, and gave in to sensation.

The two men embraced in the midnight gloom, silhouetted against the expanse of the hotel window as the lights of the city shimmered like stars behind them. Tomorrow everything might be different again, but tonight was for them alone.

Code blue, indeed.


End file.
